Fear Itself
by jibber59
Summary: Missing epilogue to The Experimental Job. I just KNOW this is what the writers would have added if they didn't have those annoying time restrictions. (please read that comment with your sarcasm voice at full volume – like I could come close to the original writers! ) Rating level based on language.
Nate watched as their young client practically skipped out the door after saying goodbye to Eliot. She was understandably elated with the results, as was the team. The phone call from their new "friend" confirmed the verdict well before any formal trial was even finalized. So much for the independence of the justice system. Not that there was any doubt of Travis Zilgram's guilt. It's just having the outcome determined before the trial seemed so – unjudicial. Still, it fit in perfectly with Nate's somewhat cynical view of life, so he was fine with it.

He'd been a little less fine with the state of his team. It had been a hard job – harder than they anticipated when they agreed to go after a fraternity house. They'd underestimated the enemy, not anticipating CIA involvement, beatings and torture. Recovery from this one was a little more than planned for. He and Sophie had been fine, having had minimal direct involvement on this job. Eliot and Hardison had done the heavy lifting this time around, and Parker had taken an emotional hit as well.

Of course that was the case these days whenever Hardison got a little more involved. Still, her guilt over not being there when Hardison's cover was blown continued to manifest itself, mostly in the form of care and mothering of the wounded hacker. He'd recovered well from the bruising, but was still dealing with the mental and emotional strain of the entire experience. Parker's attention was definitely helping with all of that.

Eliot, as always, was another story. No signs whatsoever that the job had been anything beyond the routine, and in many ways it was for him. A little violence – both given and received, a few demons from his past, and some unexpressed self-directed anger over not being there to stop Hardison from getting hurt. Anyone on the team getting hurt was a personal affront to Eliot, not to mention a definite cause for self-recrimination. Apparently he felt he should be in the possession of the ability to be in 4 places at once, playing guardian to each of them. A paper cut was not allowed on his watch, let alone a beating like the one Hardison dealt with. His hovering, while less obvious than Parker's, was every bit as anxious and guilt laden.

Nate slowly started his walk toward the hitter, who remained behind the bar, pouring them each a drink. It was always a challenge to approach him on how he was feeling about anything. Eliot denied emotions. Simply refused to acknowledge publicly and maybe even privately, that they existed. The same thing went for his demons, his nightmares, and most of his past. Denial was his constant theme, and he maintained it worked for him. But Nate had heard the truth. He'd heard it occasionally in the past, when hints of Eliot's story came out, usually in the form of an offhand comment, a fleeting reference to jobs he had done that made something or someone familiar – distinct – to him. He'd actually admitted once or twice in the early going to having hurt people, but details were never offered up. His range of expertise on ways and means to harm another human being was a chilling testament to just what kind of history he had, and why he was beyond reluctant to share.

This time though, Nate had heard the details. OK, maybe not actual details. But the legacy of them had come through loud and clear while Eliot had been "interviewed" by the CIA interrogator. Not that he had been broken. No – it would take someone with considerably more skill than that amateur possessed to break Eliot Spencer. Nate was reasonably certain that there was only one man alive who would be able to do that, and that was Eliot Spencer. Eliot had given up only what he needed to in order to keep his cover intact, to push back against the effort to find out what made him tick. As a result the interrogator had learned nothing, other than to be very afraid of his "prisoner".

Nate, on the other hand, had gleaned a little more, receiving confirmation of suspicions he had long held. Suspicions that Eliot lived with more than anyone should have to. And that those memories, while never voiced, rarely left his conscious thought. He lived with them, dealt with them, daily. And that fundamental fact scared Nate more than any words Eliot had ever uttered, or deeds he had ever done.

He reached the bar and picked up the drink Eliot had poured and they toasted to success and the future with the simple words – Here we go.

Eliot put down the glass and started to step away, but Nate wasn't quite ready to let him walk.

"So – a little more than we had planned for on this one."

Eliot shrugged. "Tends to happen when you don't stop to fully evaluate things. We made assumptions that were careless. We learned. The hard way, as always. Wouldn't be a good lesson if it was easy – or so I've been told."

"I got no problems with easy."

Eliot grinned. "Yeah – then why don't we ever try things that way?"

It was Nate's turn to shrug.

"We got another job lined up?"

"Got a couple of possibilities in mind, but there isn't anything really pressing at the moment."

Eliot nodded his concurrence, pouring them each another shot at the same time.

"So, Eliot – can I ask you a question?"

"Just did. Suppose you mean another one? Can always ask…won't always get an answer."

"Fair enough. What scares you?"

Eliot stopped his movement. The shot glass had been at his lips, ready to be emptied, and it now hovered there for a moment. After about 5 seconds he opened his mouth and tipped the glass back.

"Not too much. Seen too much to let things get to me anymore."

"Come on – everybody has something. Confess."

"Don't like spiders."

Nate almost choked on his shot. "Seriously? You've been in jungles, deserts, prisons, sewers, swamps and Lord knows what else, and you're afraid of spiders?"

"Didn't say I was afraid of them did I? Just said I didn't like them. Nasty bastards."

"OK."

"OK then."

After a few beats of silence Nate spoke again. "Want to know what scares me?"

Eliot had a feeling he really didn't want to know, but that same feeling told him he had no choice in the matter. He didn't answer, but did look at Nate, which was accepted as an affirmative response.

"Well, for one thing, I'm scared that one of these days Parker is going to misjudge a drop, or mess up on a knot and there won't be a damn thing anyone can do about it. And I'm scared that Hardison is going to push his luck to far on one of these jobs and the mark will see right through him and there won't be a damn thing anyone can do about it." Eliot tried to lick his lips as his mouth went dry. He was pretty sure he was the 'anyone' Nate was talking about. He'd never realized that Nate was afraid he couldn't do his job. In fact, it had been one sure constant in his life – that they had faith in him to be there when they fell, or jumped, or stumbled or screwed up. In other words, when they needed him.

Granted, he hadn't been there when Hardison was grabbed this time, but he found out where he'd been taken. It had been a long time since he'd beaten on someone that bad just to get answers. He had hoped that the guy who could do that was buried, deeply buried, within him. The guy that would just keep pounding until the answers came. The guy that didn't hear bones breaking or see blood flowing from the target. The guy who focused only on the answer. But it had taken only seconds for that guy to leap to the front when he'd heard Hardison was missing. Now he was going to have to work at sending him back into the darkness, where he belonged.

He became aware that Nate had stopped talking and was now just watching him. He had that annoying tilt to his head and look on his face that screamed 'I know just what you are thinking because I am deep inside your head'. He ignored the look and posed his own question instead. "That it – just those two fears?"

"Oh no – lots more. Like the fear that one of these days Sophie is going to realize I'm not worth the effort she's making. She's gonna wake up one morning and say 'screw it – I'm tired of trying to fix him.' That one definitely scares me. And I'm even more scared she'll be right."

Eliot had no idea how to respond to that one. He didn't think it would happen. Sophie was too far gone on Nate. If she hadn't walked out for good by now, she wasn't about to. But he didn't think it was his place to point this out, and he didn't really think Nate needed, or wanted, him to.

"But," Nate continued, "I can deal with those things. I can handle the fact that they scare me, because I can dispute the fears. Parker is careful – extremely so. I know you call her crazy, but she never takes chances on her job. She knows those ropes, those calculations. She knows exactly what she's doing every time she makes a jump, so the odds there will be a problem are pretty small. So it scares me, but I can deal with it.

And Hardison – well he's getting better at the game. The problem on this job wasn't that he overplayed anything. The problem was that the mark had better access than we expected."

The problem, Eliot thought to himself, was that he'd let them get his fingerprints and that was why Hardison got made. Maybe Nate was right – maybe he wasn't as good at his job as he thought he was. He'd gotten careless, and Hardison paid the price.

"So," Nate kept talking, "Hardison's learning to run the con more effectively. It still scares me when he goes out, 'cause things happen, but I can deal with that too."

"And as for Sophie. Well, I'm pretty sure I'm doing OK – the best that I can anyway. And I think – hope – that she has the patience to see me through things. Because this," he held up the empty glass, "doesn't have quite the control it used to. And as long as I can hold that together I think the rest might just work out. I'm a little scared I may be indulging in wishful thinking, but I am pretty sure I can handle this."

"So – **that** is what scares me."

Eliot looked at him and poured himself another shot before tucking the bottle away. Nate's glass remained empty. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop here. This had been aimed at him, but he was damned if he could figure out what was coming next. The one thing he was sure of is that he wasn't going to like it.

"Won't be good for my reputation if it gets out that I don't register on your list. People are supposed to be scared of Eliot Spencer. Kind of what I do."

"No Eliot – you don't scare me." Nate spoke in a calm, matter of fact kind of voice. "You terrify me. You confound me, petrify me and give me nightmares. You are the one remaining thing in my life that can send me into a complete and total panic."

"Shit."

"Yeah – really."

"Dammit Nate!" he slammed down his now empty glass. "You know I would never – EVER – do anything against any of you. I know you saw me at my worst…" he really hadn't, but Eliot wasn't about to share that – "back at the warehouse, but that is never going to come down on you guys. I won't let it. I'd kill myself first."

"That. That right there. That is what terrifies me."

Eliot stared.

"You don't get it – won't get it. We aren't scared **of** you – we are scared **for** you. Eliot, I heard you during your interrogation session." He was quick to reassure the hitter his secrets were relatively safe. "Don't worry - the others didn't. I made sure of that. But I did. I can't pretend to know what you live with every day, what it does to you. But every now and then I get a glimpse, and it terrifies me."

"Nate – I told you. I won't let 'that guy' ever hurt any of you. Whatever it takes."

"You're still not listening. It's the 'whatever it takes part' that worries me. Eliot, nobody should have to deal with things the way you do. Nobody should have to turn on and off the violence the way you do. Yes, I saw that look at the warehouse. I don't know what came after it, but the fact you walked out of there, and to my knowledge, no one else did – I can't imagine what that did to you. I heard what you did to find out where Hardison was. I heard you making demands in a voice I could barely recognize as yours, maybe because it wasn't really you. And don't you dare try to tell me you're fine, and it's what you do. It's not what you do, not anymore. It's what you used to do and we keep sending you back to that time. We have no right to do that to you. I have no right to do that to you."

"It was really me Nate. This guy in front of you now – he's the imposter. He's the front I put up so that I can mix in with the world. He's the act."

"BULLSHIT. He used to be the act…"

"That doesn't change Nate. You don't take what I was and dump him somewhere on the side of the road. He stays, he's permanent. And he comes back. Keeps comin' back – way too quickly most of the time. Letting him out is easy. Keeping him leashed – hell, caged – that's the challenge. When that lock breaks, trust me, you do not want to be around."

"Yes Eliot – I do. I want to be there to help you put him back in the cage. I want to be there for you the way you are for us. The way you talk me down from my tantrums, the way you listen to Parker and make her feel she's normal, or at least not abnormal. The way you provide a sounding board for Sophie to vent when she is pissed off with me, or life, or whatever. The way you let Hardison have those little wins that help him learn how to control his impulses. But you won't let me – won't let **us** , any of us, in."

"I can't Nate. I know what would happen, and I just can't."

"Like I said – that is where the terror is. Because I am deathly afraid that one of these days that guy, those memories, those parts of your life that you won't move past, are going to be more than you're ready to deal with. And you won't let us help – you'll leave us. Maybe just by not coming to work, by heading off somewhere away from all of this, from us. And that will be bad. But worse, infinitely worse, you'll find a more permanent way. The 'whatever it takes' way. You tell me Eliot. How do we live with that? How do we live with the fact you're ready to kill yourself to protect us? How is that supposed to NOT be terrifying?"

Eliot was glad he'd stayed behind the bar. For one, Nate wouldn't be able to see his legs shaking, barely able to support him. In the second place, it meant the bar **was** there to hold him up, at least for a few more seconds. He was effectively paralyzed at this point. No injury, no punch, no bullet, had ever left him so unable to function. He was vaguely aware that he was trying to speak. Aware that he should be responding to this. But he had no words, and even worse, he had no breath. Whatever he was doing was triggering a response in Nate. The mastermind was in a minor panic, running to get behind the bar, grabbing him by the shoulders and lowering him to the ground.

"Eliot – Eliot breathe dammit. Eliot. Shit, come on man. This was not supposed to be the reaction. Don't tell me I killed you. That did not just happen. Breathe damn it!"

A small gasp of air. A cough, another gasp. The lungs were working again. Somehow his brain had activated enough to get the oxygen flowing. He shrugged Nate off, getting back to his feet before he had actually settled all the way to the ground.

"I'm fine." He whispered. Clearing his throat he tried again. "I'm fine. Whiskey just went down the wrong way."

"You weren't drinking."

"Well then I should have been. What the hell was that about Nate?"

"Reality."

"No – that was nothing like reality. Trust me – I know reality."

"Eliot…"

"Reality is that I do what I need to do, when I need to do it. Reality is that no one gives a rat's ass about how I do it, what I feel about it or what, if anything I feel like after it's done. Reality is that no one gives a shit whether I come home, leave or drive my car of the nearest cliff. THAT'S REALITY!"

"Not anymore."

Eliot stared at him.

"Not anymore," he repeated. "You have a new reality. You've had it for quite a while, but just don't want to acknowledge it."

Eliot finally looked away. He tilted his head back and leaned against the back of the bar for a moment. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to ensure the oxygen was indeed circulating. He wasn't ready to look back to Nate so allowed his eyes to scan the bar. That's when he saw them. Sophie, Hardison, Parker. All standing quietly in the door way. Statues. Not moving, just watching. The emotions poured from them though. He could suddenly feel them smothering him – drowning him with the same sadness that was coming from Nate.

He'd felt it once before. That day in the park. The day he had admitted his connection to Moreau. The day he'd had to open up a small crack in the foundation that encased his past. He'd felt them try to offer some support as his barriers came down. That support, that compassion, was what forced him to fortify the barriers. He would not let them in – they could never see that side. They could never handle that side.

What if he was wrong? Maybe they could accept it. Maybe they already had accepted it. Accepted him. They thought they knew, or at least had an idea of what his world had been. They were wrong; they had only the slightest inkling. But even that should have been enough to keep them at a distance. To keep them scared – terrified of learning more. Lord knows it had been enough for everyone else, including his own family. Yet here he was, in their lives. He was having a lot of trouble with that concept. It didn't fit his world, and yet there it was.

He broke away from the stare, glancing back to Nate before looking down and taking in a deep breath.

"New reality? Took me years to adjust to the one I've been living in. Gonna take a while to switch over again. Not sure I can."

"As long as we know you're trying, we can deal with the rest. Be nice to step back from terrifying for a while."

Eliot rubbed a tired hand over his face. "No promises – but I'll work on it."

"That'll do, for now."

Eliot turned without making eye contact with any of them, and grabbed his jacket, and silently headed out into the night.

"Do you think he means it Nate? Do you think he'll change?" Sophie had come up beside him quietly, while Hardison and Parker stayed back, wondering the same question.

"I don't know if he can. What he is has become so entrenched I just don't know if he can. But, I do know he'll try. And that's more than we had this morning. I say we take that as the win."


End file.
